Silver Blades and a Night to Dream on
by Lip Balm
Summary: Edward, lonely on the ledge with silver blades. Enter candy lips and subtle raindrops. Combined to make the best batch of cookies. Okay, that sounds funny. It's not. Read and review. :) [ONE SHOT. Sequel NOW UP!]
1. One shot

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I love Johnny Depp. :D Hee. A story of Edward Scissorhands, I bring you. The original one got erased by a series of file burnings. [Whoops] So this one might be a tad rusty. Review. 

…

I saw him.

For years I've heard stories of this man. The man with knives as hands. Ridiculous children's tales, of a robot man with poison dipped fingertips, sharp as knives and needles, and made completely out of steel. 

I've heard them all. Tales of the pale man with scissor hands, made completely out of solid gold and grape jelly. The man who lived inside the large licorice coated haunted mansion, with the three little pigs and the wicked witch from the west. All these stories fabricated to the last sentence, word, comma and punctuation mark. Truth be told, no one has been to that 'licorice' coated mansion close enough to even take a whiff of the candy aroma rising from the number of windows and doors. How foul. How horrid. How luring. 

__

News travels fast in Suburbia.

I heard it all. But I **saw** him. Name me crazy, I don't mind.

He was standing in the middle of the attic. A dark shadow in contrast to a large hole in the center of the roof. A smaller figure, a complete outline suspended in the middle of the ebony background. A pallid face, floating within the center of the black, gaping pit. And then, a glint of silver metal.

I didn't believe it. And I sometimes wonder if I still believe it now. My memory fails me at times, and I wonder if I was just imagining things. Dreaming things. He could have just been another Jack Frost, a fairy godmother…no. He was a witch inside a candy house.

But yet, there he was. Still fresh and clear cut in my mind. _Why was he there? Why what he here? Why hasn't he been noticed? _Everyday I would sit in front of my house, on the freshly cut front lawn, excusing myself as a reason to see the moon surrounded in darkness. The moon was fascinating. The man was even more. For the past week, the same routine would come about daily. After dinner was a full hour of just staring. Staring. Staring. I would sit down on the perfectly mowed grass and stare up into the sky, gazing at the luminous orb in a pit of darkness. No, not the moon. The face.

__

That day, was no different. I sat on the sidewalk this time, the grass was still wet from a slight and abrupt rain. A warning rain. Looking up, I met the gaze. A solemn, stone faced expression, as it was every time. Working up enough courage, I raised a hand, then an arm. I don't remember if it was shaking from anxiety or if I had developed the guts to wave. 

****

What's this? A greeting back. A small smile and a shine of clean metal. But there had to be more behind the sadness that lingered along the smooth face of this 'moon-man'.

I don't know what got into me. Perhaps it was because the weather was acting funny, or maybe the lasagna that my mother served earlier contained some kind of courage pill. _Was that possible? What's a courage pill? Had I gone insane? _Lifting myself up with my hands, I brushed off my ripped jeans and headed towards the mansion. Thunder clapped and rolled. It was just like a cliché horror movie. And then it rained, no. It poured. I loved it. No, not the rain. The adrenaline rush. _Only one glimpse, _I pleaded with myself. _One glimpse and nothing more._

The door was huge, but I managed to get it open. _Creaak. _Of course, another cliché horror movie factor. With all these clues hinting that I was in mortal danger screaming out at me, I wondered what really did come over me. I climbed up the spiraling staircase, dropping dust on the floor underneath me with every step. It was dirty looking, from filth and the abandoned spider homes. 

I entered into the attic, which to my surprise, was larger than I had assumed. Stacks of magazines were scattered along the floor, pictures and letters cut neatly from the covers and following pages. 

__

KIM, it read on one side of a wall, and next to it were a pair of cutout eyes. Richly brown and chocolaty warm. I saw the large hole in the ceiling, the ground underneath it was wet from the rain. The water continued to trickle onto the floor, creating small puddles that overflowed and formed rivers. _Where was the pale face that had smiled so shyly only a few moments ago? _

I stuck out my tongue, graciously letting the water droplets fall as I first experienced the clean taste. _Raindrops, fresh from the sky. Uncorrupted by anything else. _The mansion was the highest point in all of Suburbia. _It tasted just like wine. _

"I…"

I looked up with a slight smile, searching for the source of the one word, spoken ever so softly. In the corner hid a figure, bathed completely in dark shadows. 

"You can come out," I coaxed with a smile. "I..I don't mean any harm, walking in like this. I...just want to see you." 

There was a faint scratching sound, like the clutter of mice scraping along under the floor boards. The figure emerged from underneath the shadows, a tall figure that looked as if it were under constant waves of sorrow. Scars, halfway healed were in a few places over that familiar, far away face. Black hair, jutted out from all direction on his head. Silver hands, completely sharp and..

Silver. Silver. Silverscissor hands. Scissorhands.

"I..wasn't finished," the man uttered, clearly noting from the look of shock on my face. "I..he didn't wake up."

I was shocked, it's completely true. But I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid. **I wasn't afraid.**

Those words combined together in a sentence seemed foreign to me. I managed a quick smile, gulping down my surprise and putting on a face of something a bit more pleasant than utter astonishment. 

"You're…not afraid?" he asked in a timid voice.

"No," I replied with a glance up from my toes. "My name is Jamie." 

"Edward," he said, as if unsure of it himself. He appeared to look more harmless than dangerous. But of course I knew that the moment I saw his face illuminating in the darkness. There was no anger, no peace. Only sadness.

"You live in Kim's house," Edward said.

"Kim?" I asked curiously, with a slight quirk of eyebrows, remembering the words on the white wall. 

"I…" Edward started, and then stopped once more. He looked directly outside of the hole in his attic, shuddering slightly. "I saw you, sitting in front of Ki-your house."

This time, it was my turn to be speechless. I turned to gaze out of the hole in the ceiling too, not wanting to ruin the moment of a conversation with heartbeats. Rain poured from the melting pot sky, and I felt the man shudder next to me. He was far away, I wondered how I could sense that. I turned slightly to look at him, and he twisted slightly to return the gaze. A small smile was occupied on his usual gloomy expression. 

I raised a hand, then an arm. I still don't remember if I was trembling or if I had developed the guts to wave. A small smile and a shine of clean metal was shone back, a small _cling _as the metal scraped lightly against metal. A smile. A wave. A scent of fresh baked cookies and delicious licorice. 

****

And then it stopped raining.

__

Candy lips and an handful of hair. 

I wonder if you forgot me here. 

Standing on this lonely ledge.

Try the rain. It tastes delicious. 

Silver blades and a night to dream of. 

A gentle face from what appears. 

Rolling thunder, and subtle raindrops.

Silver blades a night to dream on. 

****

…

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Review, please. :] 


	2. Sequel

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SEQUEL to Silver blades and a Night to Dream On. :] PLEASE review. I hope all of you liked my first one shot. Now here's the second. Enjoy. No flames. AND please don't get angry with me. [Whimper] 

…

I wanted to hold his hand. Not the soft, warm flesh and bone of a knuckled palm, not the sweaty cervices that etched so lightly on flat backside of a wrist, not the slender, long fingers with the broad nails of peach and pink and honey. No, I wanted to touch **his **hands, the silver blades and sheaths so secretly covered in a veil of wool. The blades that brought back so many memories that never occurred, and the dark, sinister look bringing forth the innocent images brightly carved in ice.

To touch him, to know what raced along the mind of the flickering eyes. But the moment I got close he ran, scurried off underneath the floorboards, the longing look never dispersed from eyesight.

I wanted to hold those hands like I would a porcelain doll, never knowing the immense power of one until you glanced at it for a second and realized that it was staring back. **And he watched me. **Dark eyes following the movement of my hands as if a fire had sprung to life on my fingertips. That longing look was a forward of deep wanting, of deep feeling to yearn and touch and love. The wanting and wanted hands, wanting to feel and touch and learn as a child did exploring the new world at their palms. Wild eyes to see and feel the soft, feathery wings that outstretched from tallow candles. 

The warmth melting the biting harshness that had lingered in his mind for so long. So long at his fingertips. I knew this and he had not said a word.

I had met him a year ago in the rain. Where the soft pitter patter of the falling drops began to pour in the ever slow seeping pure heart. Even now he is afraid to touch me. He wanted to feel and not just see all the happiness and warmth that had blanketed over the mistrust of his tales long ago. Oh to see and feel through closed eyes. Oh to scratch that itch!

News circled around Suburbia about me. I was the tale of a girl who ran off into another town, city, world…in search for money and wealth. I was the girl who swam away to find true love in the Pacific ocean. I was the girl who proclaimed herself monster and scurried off into dematerializing, self sufficient sadness and peach. **They all really knew where I was, and they were afraid.**

And the time had come when I held him, the coarse, thick leather digging roughly into my skin, the metal buckles scraping along the fragments of my clothes, and I thought, _It's going to be alright_. I drew my arms around his waist, feeling the sharp blades dig into my long, thick hair. The fire crackled in the hearth as we held each other. 

And he drew back.

"I can't," He said, voice in whisper, eyes wild with a subconscious fear. "I won't hurt you."

I stared, the nets catching words in my tongue as he walked into a corner of the attic and stood in the darkness, the pale face outlined in ebony, bringing back so many memories of a year ago. Working up the bottled courage that I had stored away months ago, I approached him, his eyes still wide with tension.

Gently lifting his arm, I touched the blades of his fingers and smiled, "You can't hurt me," I said softly, resting the sharp blades against my skin so that it barely scratched me. "See, Edward," He looked at his own hands, confused. "I love you." I said, finally breathing out the words that had smashed the dam. The flow of tears came. 

The nervous look in his eyes dyed away as I held him, the blades of his fingers digging lightly in my red mane. Planting a small kiss on his lips, I smiled gently. He looked back, assurance dancing lightly on the corners of his face. 

"I love you," He said, as we held on tightly in the embrace. The emotional depth to feel and love came swarming all around us as I blinked away tears from looking at the utter expression of happiness in his face. 

****

I melted.

Holding onto his arm, the blades faced forward in front of him, we steadily walked ourselves down into the garden and circled our home, **our **home, a place where our heart is content. We circled the building until night approached, smile never leaving my face. I had a home. I was with the man I loved. 

A sudden sound of a crack echoed in my ears as I turned around, startled. Edward turned, eyes glancing towards the mansion. Dark smoke was billowing at the top of **our **home. **The attic. **Rushing into the house we looked around, smoke burning and singing into our eyes. I cried out, running. 

"We have to get help," I said frantically, choking on tears welled up to the base of my throat. "Come on, Edward, let's get out of here." I grabbed onto his arm and pulled his body out of the mansion, we stared at our home, the fire eating up. The smoke was thickening as we continued to look up at the dark mansion.

"Let's get out of here," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling our way towards the gate. 

"No," He said. 

"No? Edward, this place is going to burn down. I will not lose you," I pulled harder at his arm but he did not move. "Edward…" I begged. He remained still.

I tried to get him to talk, my tongue swelling in my mouth. I glanced once more at the burning building and cried out, the fire was growing at an alarming rate. The Suburbians would have seen this by now, or they did and did not care. I pushed open the gate and grabbed at his arm, crying out. "Come on Edward, let's go, let's go."

I remember smoke entering into my body, the light-headedness of my mind blacking out the remains and scraps of his face as closing eyelids finally shut tight, as if glued. I remember falling into someone's arms, a blade nicking a part of my shoulder. I remember being gently laid on something soft and plushy as the sound of footsteps edged away. 

I remember waking up feeling guilty, as if I had drowned in my own shame and had not died. I remember being afraid and small and alone, alone surrounded in this house of white walls with the clean sheets. As if life itself was sucked out of my mouth. I wasn't allowed to leave, I could not leave. I was eighteen. 

****

…

Many winters came and went as I patiently waited for snow to fall. It never did. 

I am ninety two years old, and I still remember the shine of silver metal that lingered in my eyes, that night I had held him still and for the first time, heard his heart beat. Felt his heartbeat against my chest as I kissed him. As I held him. As he held me.

I still remember the smell of pungent smoke as if it wafted around my head in a gray cloud all my life… and his safe arms as he carried me out and gently placed me in front of my own home in the darkness of the night. As he placed a soft, cold kiss on my cheek before returning to his home, our home, and shutting the large, creaky door that I had entered a year ago. The burning mansion. I don't know if I was conscious. Maybe I was dead or alive or even awake or sleeping. I know. 

I remember waking up with white walls the first morning and having a nurse tell me that I would be here for a long time. I remember crying out and living underneath my bed sheets. I remember writing this down in the last few minutes of my life, still smelling the fragrance of fresh baked cookies and delicious licorice. The smoke was gone. The smile of a pale face, spreading an unknown warmth swirling in the room. The feel of the cool, smooth blades against my skin as we drowned in each other's heartbeats. 

And when I close my eyes, I still hear his words echo in my mind.

__

I love you.

****

I had given him my hands. 

…

THE END. 

Please review! :D 


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